


Enjoying the view

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Female Character, Spies at work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: Your mission is going perfectly. Target is charming, receptive… Then you notice the balcony door is unlocked. Hmm.





	Enjoying the view

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a challenge on Tumblr. The prompt: “Oh don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.”
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Come on in,” Nathaniel says with a bow. He smirks up at you from under his eyelashes, and you grin.

“Why thank you.” You saunter past him inside; he follows close behind, his hand sliding across your hip. You bite your tongue to keep from reacting. _Keep it cool._

His place is swanky—no surprise, especially not after the gleaming lobby and spotlessly uniformed doorman. The ceiling is high, the windows broad, and there’s a balcony behind gauzy white curtains. The décor is minimalist, but classy. Nothing but class for this guy.

“Can I get you something to drink? Another sidecar?”

You smile. Your eyes flick down, then back to his. “You remembered.”

“Course I did, gorgeous.” Nathaniel grinned. “How bout it?”

“If you insist,” you say with a smile.

“I’ll drink to that,” he says. He makes his way to the tall counter that separates the living room from the open kitchen and pulls out a few bottles. You follow him over and tap one with a fingernail. Louis Royer XO is the best cognac there is.

“Nice.”

Nathaniel grins at you. He’s got a charming grin, you’ll give him that. You’d expected more smugness from someone of his caliber—based on past experience, of course.

“So tell me,” Nathaniel says as he pours, “how is it that a woman as beautiful as you gets stood up and a guy as ugly as me gets to take you home?”

“Oh please,” you scoff with a smile. “Modesty doesn't become you. Those windows are big enough for you to see your reflection just fine.”

“Well, there’s a mirror in my bedroom, too, but I might need help to see what’s really going on.” He wiggles his eyebrows in time with the cocktail shaker.

You laugh and take the proffered cocktail glass with a duck of your chin.

“Don’t drink just yet,” he says. “Let me get some scotch, and we can toast to… well, I’ll let you decide.” He pours himself a quick drink and raises his glass expectantly.

“Oh gosh, I’m on the spot now!” You tap your chin playfully. “Let’s see… To excellent drinks and even better company.”

“I will absolutely drink to that,” Nathaniel declares. He clinks his glass against yours and downs his scotch. You take a sip of your drink and watch him over the top of your glass. His pupils widen when he looks back at you. You bite the rim of your glass and smile, baring your teeth. He swallows.

_Perfect._

“I’m just going to run to the bathroom,” Nathaniel says. He points a finger at you, half-accusing. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You give a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

Nathaniel can’t contain his smile. He ducks into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

A moment alone is just what you’d been waiting for.

You make your way to the balcony. The curtains flutter as you open the door—it’s unlocked. You blink. Then you have to bite your tongue again to hide the smug grin on your face.

It’s cooler five stories up, and you lean right against the railing with a dramatic sigh. The only sounds are from the street below. Traffic, mostly. A stray yell gets your attention, but it’s just a group of young men blustering along the sidewalk.

You turn your head and let your gaze drag along the side of the building. There, a few balconies down, you spot the shadow you expected.

“Barnes, you’re getting sloppy.”

Your murmur is too quiet for any normal person to have heard, but the light catches on Barnes’ cheek as he turns his head your way. It’s too dark to see his expression, but you can easily imagine the angry glitter in his eye.

“An unlocked balcony door? This guy?” you continue. “I don’t think so.”

“It wouldn’t have been unlocked if _you_ hadn’t botched my mission.” His growl is softer than the wind.

“Sucks to be you.” You don’t hide your smile; he’s sure to see. The thought of his eyes on you deepens your grin. The bang from inside has you turning back to your mark, your grin morphing into an innocent smile.

“Whatcha doing out there, gorgeous?”

“Oh don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.” You cast one last look over your shoulder at the city and saunter inside. Nathaniel meets you halfway. He catches your hips and pulls you flush against him. If he wasn’t so strong, you might have knocked both of you over from the force of his pull. But he’s got you caught securely. He nuzzles behind your ear, breathing deep.

“Where were we?” he murmurs.

“Let’s see,” you say. “Oh—right. We were here.” You tug on his collar and kiss him square on the lips.

Nathaniel groans. He grinds into you, his arousal clearly growing. His lips are slightly chapped, the scratch just enough to keep you grounded.

You were too good at slipping into character. Right now, here with an attractive man dying to get it on with you, it would be easy to forget why you’re really here. But spotting Barnes outside was a clear reminder: you have a mission. You have a target. And as reasonable as Nathaniel is at kissing, you’ve finished the prep.

Now you just have to follow through.

Nathaniel walks you backwards until you’re leaning against the back of the couch. If you tilt you head to the right, you can make out the shadowed balcony. The door is still open. Nathaniel takes the opportunity to kiss the bare skin on your left shoulder.

You shudder. Nathaniel hums in satisfaction— _there’s_ the arrogance you’d expected!—but you suspect he’d be disappointed if he knew the reason behind your sudden chill.

From here, you _can_ see the glitter in Barnes’ eye. He’s on Nathaniel’s balcony, a shadow in the dark. His eyes are fixed on you. You bite your lip, unable to look away, until Nathaniel reaches around to the zipper on your dress.

“Wait,” you blurt.

Nathaniel pulls away, frowning.

You tear your eyes from Barnes and run your hand down Nathaniel’s chest. Is your smile shaky? You swallow. _Get back in the game._

“Let me,” you purr. You reach behind yourself and find the round disc on your zipper. You squeeze it three times in rapid succession, then start to work it down inch by inch. Your eyes are fixed on Nathaniel’s, but your whole focus is on your periphery. Nathaniel’s gaze is hungry and dark. You can only imagine the other set of eyes fixed on you.

When you reach the end of the zipper, you shrug one shoulder, then the other. The straps of your dress drop one at a time.

Nathaniel steps back up against you and kisses you so hard your head is forced back. He grabs your dress at your hips and yanks it down. You thread your hands in his hair and hold him close, so close your dress doesn’t fall past your chest. You’re wearing a strapless bra, but still.

He laughs and reaches up to twine his fingers in yours. Nathaniel catches both your hands in one and leans against the couch with the other, leaning against you more than before.

“Phew,” he says. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve had that last scotch.”

You put on a concerned look and tilt your head, and then his grip slackens and he collapses in a heap on the hardwood floor, his forehead crushing your toes.

“Well,” you say. “That was easy.”

You pull your dress into place and zip it back up. You kneel at Nathaniel’s side and push him onto his back before checking his vitals. His breathing is regular, if shallow, and his heart rate is slow but steady.

“You couldn’t have spiked his scotch.”

You flinch. How did he get so close?

Bucky Barnes is standing steps away, his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown line between his brows as he stares down at you.

“Why not?” you challenge.

“You haven’t been here before, and you didn’t go near enough just now. So what did you do?”

“Trade secrets, Barnes.” You smirk and get back to work. Nathaniel’s phone is where he’d put in back at the bar, right in the inner pocket of his jacket. You grab it using the end of Nathaniel’s shirt. His thumb is the fingerprint you need to get inside. “Perfect.”

Barnes crouches beside you. You ignore him—or at least, you don’t look his way. The Winter Soldier is impossible to ignore. There’s no forgetting the black glitter in his eyes when he watched you with Nathaniel. But you do your best to push the memory aside. Right now, you need to focus.

You use Nathaniel’s fingers to swipe through his phone, careful not to touch the device yourself. Fortunately, you know what you’re looking for. When a particular file requires his own eye for admittance, you peel back Nathaniel’s eyelid and hold the phone up.

The file opens with a click.

“Could you bring me my purse?”

Barnes doesn’t move. You turn to look at him at last. His eyes are dark as he studies your face.

“What?” you demand.

“Is this how you get to everyone?”

You blink. You set Nathaniel’s phone (and hand) aside and sit back against the couch, your legs stretched in front of you. “Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Never seen you at work before.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have peeked,” you retort.

Barnes freezes, his eyes wide. “Did you… I’m sorry,” he says.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.” You flex your toes, not quite meeting his eye. His sincere apology had thrown you for a loop. “I suppose it was bound to happen. I would have done the same. Gotta keep eyes on the mark.”

The thought comes to you as soon as the words leave your mouth. When Barnes had you both in his sights, his eyes had only been on _you._

You cough hastily and climb to your feet. Your clutch is on the bar counter; you hurry over and pull out a cord and your own phone. Back at Nathaniel’s side, Barnes is going through the same security process you had. By the time you make it back over to them, he’s got the right file open. Barnes passes you the phone with a quirk of his lips.

“Thank you,” you say. Should he have known which file you were after? Probably not. But Barnes is enough of a professional that you’re not bothered.

Your cord has a number of heads; you check a few before you find the right match for Nathaniel’s phone. The tail goes into your own phone, and it’s only a few moments before your phone beeps in satisfaction. You sigh, relieved. Even with a surprise addition to the party, things haven’t gone south. Everything’s gone according to plan.

“Hold on,” Barnes says suddenly.

You’re crouched in front of Nathaniel, sliding his phone back into his pocket, when you feel someone grab your zipper.

And squeeze three times.

Under you, Nathaniel groans.

“Shit!” you hiss. You spin and gesture wildly for Barnes to go. His eyes widen, and then a wicked grin splits his face. Your jaw drops—you’ve never seen his smile, and holy shit has the guy been holding out.

“Clever,” he mouths, and then he disappears into the shadows outside.

You blink after him, torn between cursing and laughing. He’d figured out your methods! How the hell had he managed that? Now you’d have to figure out a new strategy. On the other hand, that smile made your knees weak. You’re glad you’re already on the floor.

Nathaniel groans again, and you turn back to him. He seemed reasonably good-looking earlier, but after seeing Bucky Barnes’ smile, Nathaniel looks like just another graduated frat boy. Utterly forgettable.

Your phone is a deadweight in your hands; you dash over to stuff it back in your purse before returning to Nathaniel’s side. You pull his head into your lap and press a hand to his forehead. It’s a little warm—good. That’s normal.

“Nathaniel? Are you okay?”

He slowly blinks his eyes open. “Uuuugh.”

“Are you okay?” you repeat. He puts a hand to his stomach and presses his lips together. “Oh no… Should I call an ambulance?”

“Ugh. No.” He sits up slowly; you help with a hand on his back.

Your face is pinched as you help position him against the couch, but inside you’re deeply relieved. Not surprised, though. Men are so predictable. They _never_ want an ambulance.

Nathaniel lets you help him to bed; you pull his trash can over by his pillow—he’ll need it. But not until after you let yourself out.

You do finish your drink before you go. It would be a shame to let such a quality cocktail go to waste.

 

* * *

 

On your way out, the doorman gets a parting smile and wave. The night air is just right—dry, a slight wind, a perfect temperature. Your smile doesn’t fade, not until you duck down a quiet street toward the metro and spot a tall man with shoulder-length hair leaning against a telephone pole, phone in hand.

You swallow.

You should turn around, go another way. But your feet carry you forward until Barnes is only a few feet away. He stuffs his phone away and smiles at you. He’s changed from his stealth suit—or at least, he’s thrown on a blue scarf that makes his eyes pop in the best way even in the yellow light of the street.

“I didn’t expect to see you,” you tell him. You fiddle with the strap of your dress. How much of you did he see, earlier? What did he think? What’s he thinking now?

“I didn’t want to ask before,” he says, “seeing as you were busy and all.”

“Ask me what?”

Bucky Barnes holds out his hand to you with a gentle smirk. “Ask you out, doll.”

Your lips part. You slide your hand into his without thinking and step closer. “What brought that on?”

“How often do I get a chance to see a brilliant mind at work?”

“Every time you look in the mirror, of course.”

But Bucky doesn’t laugh at your quip. He brushes his hand over your cheek and traces your lips with his thumb. His expression is soft, his eyebrows drawn together and a tiny smile on his face.

“You don’t need to use your lines on me,” he says gently.

Your stomach twists, and you try to step away. But he’s having none of it.

“Stay,” he murmurs. He squeezes your hand—not tight enough that you couldn’t slip free, but enough so you know he means it. You ease closer. His eyes light up, and the unconcealed happiness there that prompts you to tell the truth.

“I don’t really know how to do it without my lines,” you confess.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he promises. He curls his hand around the back of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re a boss at what you do. You don’t need lines. I just want you. You’ve got me, sugar.”

It takes all your effort to not blurt out a line, a witticism; something about his smooth talking and his classy pet name. But you don’t. Instead, you close your eyes and soak in his words. He wants you. He wants _you._ Not the tongue-in-cheek flirt who makes eyes at billionaires, not the coquette. Just you.

As his words settle, contentment seeps through you from your heart to your toes. When was the last time you were this happy? You can’t remember.

You open your eyes and squeeze his hand. “I don’t know how to tell you what I’m feeling right now.”

“Can you show me?” he whispers, eyes dark.

You smile, your eyes darting to his lips. You lean forward against him, your free hand against his chest, and brush your lips against his. “I can try.”


End file.
